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“Any plans for the day?” he asks me. We’re just two normal people in love, eating breakfast together. I could get used to this.
Shrugging, I offer, “I’m not sure. I might help Aspen out with some nursery stuff.”
He must figure out right away what’s going on in my head, since his face falls. “You’re still sad about the baby.”
“How can I be when there was never a baby in the first place?” But yes, that’s why the idea of spending an afternoon with my sister-in-law stings a lot. It’s sort of exhausting, having to put on a happy face and pretend everything’s cool when inside all I can do is wonder when it’s going to be my turn. I hate myself for thinking that way – it’s immature, for one thing, and for another thing, Aspen would never think that way if our positions were reversed. She is much too sweet and generous for that, while I’m just being selfish.
“You’re entitled to feel how you feel,” he reminds me in a soft but firm voice. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I know you’re right.” And I love him even more for hearing me out and not trying to gloss over my feelings. Growing up with a father like mine, I’m used to people thinking they can solve all my problems for me. He’s not trying to do that. He just wants to help me through it. He is exactly what I need, perfect for me in every way.
“What are you smiling about?” He’s smiling, too, when I look up from my orange juice.
“Probably about how much I love you.” We both lean across the table for a kiss. He tastes like syrup and bacon and orange juice and I drink him in, catching up for lost time.
That is, until my stomach turns out of nowhere. “Oh, shit.” I sit back in my chair, one hand on my belly while the other creeps up over my mouth. “I don’t feel so good. I think I ate too fast.”
“What’s wrong?”
I don’t have time to answer. There’s only enough time for me to catch sight of his worried expression before I make a run forit, tearing into the house and through the kitchen. It’s a miracle I make it to the powder room in time, throwing myself on the floor in front of the toilet not a split second before everything I just ate comes back up in a painful rush. My stomach keeps cramping and wave after wave splashes into the bowl. There’s nothing for me to do but wait for it to pass, and by the time it does my ribs ache from the force of gagging that hard.
Somewhere in there, Ren followed me, and now he’s holding my hair back with one hand while rubbing my back with the other. “I’m sorry. Did you already feel sick? You didn’t need to eat with me if you felt sick, you know.”
“But I didn’t.” I’m pretty sure it’s over now, so I flush the toilet before closing the lid and resting my forehead against the cool wood. “I felt fine until, like, thirty seconds ago.”
The slow, rhythmic motion from his hand ceases. “When was the last time you had a period?”
That’s a good question. I honestly can’t remember. It’s enough to make me open my eyes and sit up, forgetting the lingering nausea for a second while I think back. “Everything is such a blur. It’s hard for me to remember what happened when.”
“You get what I’m asking, right? Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”
“The test was negative,” I remind him with a shrug. “So it’s not that.”
His troubled eyes narrow. “Are those tests always right?”
Honestly, I have no idea. “Well, either way, it’s been a long time since my last period. Maybe I should go to the doctor.”
“I want to go with you.” It comes out all at once, almost a single word. “There’s still a chance you’re pregnant. The test could’ve been wrong. I want to be there with you.”
And I want nothing more in the whole world than to have him by my side. He’ll never know how much it means to hearthat. It gives me the courage to stand on my feet and, after running up to get changed and brush my teeth, head down to Dad’s office. I still feel a little queasy but I’m pretty sure I vomited up every ounce of what was in my stomach.
Could I be pregnant? The possibility makes my pulse race as I approach the open door. Good. He’s not busy. He might be in a decent mood.
And he seems to be, giving me his full attention when I walk in instead of only glancing my way before going back to his work. “Good morning. You look a little green. Are you feeling all right?”
It’s not like him to be that observant, which tells me I must look like hell. But right now, it feels like that’s a good thing. “Have a big favor to ask you.”
Groaning, he says, “Exactly what a father wants to hear first thing.”
“It’s not a big deal or anything. But I need to make an appointment with the doctor.“
“Are you sick? Is there something you’re not telling me?” He’s already halfway out of his chair, looking either ready to kill somebody or buy a new hospital wing to make sure I’m taken care of.
“I’m not sick. But…” I mean, I don’t want to lie. And considering I’m about to ask permission to take Ren with me, he needs to understand the subtext here. Why this is so important. “Don’t freak out. I thought I might be for a little while, but I took a test, and it said I wasn’t. But I just got sick out of nowhere, and… I don’t want to get too personal, but…”
He holds up a hand, sinking back into his chair with a thump. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”
“I might be pregnant,” I whisper, trembling. “It would’ve happened when we were at that cabin. I swear, I wasn’t trying to keep a secret. I really didn’t think I was. But maybe I should go.And I want him to go with me. He has the right to be there if it turns out I really am pregnant.”
